"You do," I confirm, but a twinge of guilt scrapes at me. She doesn't know what really went down between Autumn and me. She is, however, the only person besides Ace who knows about what I'm going through with my dad.
"I think my daughter has something to do with your nerves. Or maybe she has everything to do with it." Faith raises an eyebrow and I chuckle. If that woman had it her way, Autumn and I would be married with two-point-five kids and living next door. That was the plan … always the plan.
"Seeing her again isn't easy," I admit. I still remember taking pictures the night of senior prom. Faith looked so proud to see Autumn and I make it through high school together.
Faith makes a sarcastic noise in her throat. "No kidding?"
I wonder what Autumn has told her and it reminds me of all those times I called Faith’s house freshman year of college begging her to get Autumn to return my calls.
“She told me if I speak your name again, she’ll disown me. What did you do, Owen?” Faith had growled. Having a woman I considered to be a second mother ask me what I did wrong really fucked with my eighteen-year-old head. That’s when the guilt and shame turned to anger. Anger at Autumn for not giving me a chance to right my wrongs, for leaving me to deal with the choice we made and no one to talk to about it.
"We talked today. We're going to do better. Be adult about it all," I said proudly.
I'd chased after Autumn in the hospital earlier as Faith, Melody, and Linda had looked on. It wasn't my finest, most professional moment. I did my best to appear in control as I strode through the treatment room, but I don't know if my air of collectedness fooled anybody but me. “Collected” is the last thing I am when I'm around Autumn. In her presence, my blood boils, my stomach churns with guilt, my heart turns over in my chest. That woman drives me mad and it doesn’t help that she’s gotten even more beautiful with age.
"Maybe what you two really need is an honest conversation about how you ended,” Faith says matter-of-factly. “Air your grievances and get the ugliness out in the open where it can be dealt with. How can you move past it when you're both still stuck inside it?"
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of having Autumn alone, sitting across from her, finally apologizing for everything I said … it would feel so good. But it would also bring up what happened and I’m not sure either one of us ever wants to revisit that again.
Unless she wants to, unless it would help both of us heal…
Maybe. Clearly time hasn't erased her memory. She seems to have a razor-sharp grasp on the last time we saw each other, which makes me so ashamed.
My hand captures my lower lip and I squeeze it so it bunches together in the middle. I'm considering Faith's suggestion.
The hard part will be getting Autumn to hear me out. How am I going to make that happen when she so clearly doesn't want to hear what I have to say? And once I start talking, she’s bound to interrupt me in anger and the whole thing will become a big shitshow.
At the next light, I make an unplanned right turn, causing Faith to send a questioning glance my way.
"Ice cream," I explain. "To celebrate you beating this again."
A grin tugs at her mouth. "Isn't it a little premature?"
"Nah. We're putting it out into the universe that you're going to make this cancer your bitch."
Faith bursts into laughter and tosses her arms in the air. "Salted caramel for me!"
I love this woman, and Ace’s comment about me being too close to properly manage her care gnaws at my gut.
"Thanks for carrying that in, Owen." Faith holds the front door open for me and I step through, three grocery bags in one hand. I head for the kitchen and set them on the counter.
"No problem," I tell Faith as she begins pulling items from the bag. We stopped at the store for ice cream but ended up with a few more things Faith needed. Typical. When does anyone ever actually leave the grocery store with the one thing they ran in to get?
"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" I ask, thumbing over my shoulder and down the hall.
"Of course not," Faith says as she bends to place something in the fridge.
I leave Faith in the kitchen, and just as I reach for the bathroom doorknob, it turns and the door flies open.
"Fuck," Autumn says, shocked, her fingers curling over the fold at the top of the towel wrapped around her.
"Shit … sorry." I step aside to let her pass. My eyes find the floor so she doesn't think I'm a creep enjoying an eyeful. She takes a moment to gather her bearings, then steps around me. The smell of cucumber and vanilla hits me hard as she passes and it’s like I’ve been punched in the gut.
She still uses the same shampoo, which takes me back to prom night and the shower we took together after…
I hurry into the bathroom, but before I close the door, I look at her. I can't help it.
She's standing at the entrance to her bedroom, watching me. Her long brown hair lies damp on her back, her shoulders bare. Her makeup-free face is more beautiful than I remember and I can’t help but eye her lips.
Her eyebrows raise as I take her in. "How's the view?" she asks sarcastically.
My neck heats up. "You'd look too if I came out wearing only a towel," I say, trying for confidence and good-natured humor and hoping she doesn’t take it wrong.
She smirks. "Maybe ten years ago, but I don’t know what’s under there anymore.” She points to my stomach. “Could be a beer belly." Then she steps into her room and closes the door.
Hah! Is that a challenge? Because I’ll rip my shirt off right now and show her the six pack Ace helped me get in the gym. God, I fucking love her little sassy attitude. It’s a problem.
Stepping into the bathroom, I shut the door and I'm left with her scent. It's … well, mouth-watering. A little too delicious for my own wellbeing.
After finishing up in the bathroom, I get back out to the kitchen. Nobody is around, but from the kitchen window I catch sight of Faith in her small vegetable garden. Day one of chemo, most patients would be napping, but not Faith. She’s a warrior.
From a cabinet I pull out three small mismatched bowls. Just as I'm dropping the first scoop of ice cream into a bowl, Autumn walks in.
Her hair is still damp, the moisture causing it to appear even darker than its normal chocolate shade. Her face is slightly pink, probably from the hot shower she took. Certainly not because she's flushed thinking about my supposed beer belly. It's painfully clear the effect I used to have on her has disappeared.
I, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about what is under that towel.
She ignores me and walks to the door that leads outside, staring out at her mother. My ice cream scoop stops midway between the bowl and the carton. The afternoon sun shines off Autumn's profile, illuminating her face and my heart twists as I take her in. She is so familiar that my fingertips remember what it felt like to run them up her arms, over her shoulders, down the valley created by her breasts. But there are parts of her I don't know, a newness that intrigues me. Where she used to be narrow, her hips have taken shape more like the bottom half of an hourglass. Her cheekbones are more defined. On her face I see her strength, the determined set of her eyebrows, but fragility lives there too. What happened in New York that made her fragile? Or is it being back here that has done it?